Entry tags:

*fic, ginny, neville

Special delivery for Lyras (part I)
Title: Of Greetings And Goodbyes
Author: eeyore9990
Recipient's LJ name: lyras
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Ginny finds her life in upheaval when a tragedy from the past comes back to haunt her. With the love and support of friends and family, she slowly finds her way forward.
Pairing(s): Neville/Ginny, mentions Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Luna/Various
Word Count: ~15,500
Warnings (if any): EWE (canon character deaths occur before the beginning of the fic)
Authors notes: Thank you to A, A, A, A, B, and K for all the wonderful help, beta-work, and general hand-holding. I cannot thank you all enough. lyras, I hope you enjoy this!

---

Part I: Letting Go

Ginny hurried along Diagon Alley, loaded down with packages. As she turned the corner, the wind that had been blocked by the buildings along the street swirled around her, blowing her knit cap into her eyes. Stumbling to a halt, she dropped a few packages at her feet and pushed up the cap, exasperated.

Either my head has shrunk or one of the twins has cast an Engorgement-- The line of thought cut off abruptly as reality intruded. The twins… oh, God… A tingling sensation swept through her and her breath caught behind the knot that slammed into her throat. Her eyes filled with tears of anger and grief and the rest of her packages tumbled to the ground as her arms dropped to her sides numbly.

"Ginny?" The hesitant voice washed over her but she couldn't move, couldn't turn to acknowledge whoever had called her name, could only stand still in shock as the realisation that there would be no more the twins stabbed through her.

Some part of her noticed when the packages scattered around her feet were collected. She roused herself enough to make a small sound of distress but immediately a low, comforting voice murmured in her ear as a firm hand guided her into the small tea shop two doors down. It wasn't until a cup materialised in front of her that she was able to drag her anguished gaze up and see Neville Longbottom sitting across from her, his expression worried.

"He's gone," she said, her voice broken and small. Some part of her rebelled at the sound of it, but not enough to drive her from this small zone of warmth and safety that seemed to have miraculously sprung up around her.

Neville's face went blank with shock and he whispered back, "Harry?"

Ginny blinked rapidly, the mention of Harry's name making the bubble of protection her mind had created pop as the past evaporated. The tears that had merely been standing in her eyes, unable to fall, were squeezed down to wet her eyelashes and smear the carefully applied mascara she had donned for her day of shopping. "No, no, not Harry. I'm sorry. Oh, God, Neville, I'm so sorry." She brought her hands up to cover her face, only then realising how hard she was shaking. "It's just… I was thinking… Fred… and he's been gone for so long. It's been two years! How can I still have…" She broke off, realising she wasn't making any sense.

Neville's hand wrapped around her wrist, tugging gently until she lowered her hands. "It's only been two years, Ginny. And he was your brother for seventeen before that."

Ginny sagged into her seat, her gaze locked helplessly on the sympathy that shone from Neville's steady brown eyes. "How long am I going to do this, Neville? How long before it's no longer such a surprise? Such a shock when I think of him?"

His lips parted in dismay before he dropped his gaze to her chin and said, "I'm sorry, Ginny, but I don't know. I… I really just don't know." He looked back up into her eyes and blinked for a moment before saying, "Is there someone you'd like me to call? Harry or your mum?"

Ginny laughed humourlessly and said, "Why? So Harry can sit there looking trapped and pat me on the shoulder before trying to change the subject to Quidditch? Because, you know," she leaned forward and whispered sarcastically, "Quidditch makes everything better."

Neville's eyes went wide, and Ginny's stomach dropped before she rushed to say, "Oh, God, Neville, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean… Harry's your friend. I should never have said that. I don't know what I was thinking--"

"Ginny!" Neville broke through her stammering apology, reaching across the small table to grasp her shoulder and give her a tiny shake. "Yes, Harry is my friend. But I'd like you to remember that I'm your friend, too. "

Ginny closed her eyes, assaulted by feelings she'd kept bottled up for far too long. "It's just… I've never been allowed to talk about it. Harry just wants to put the war and everything it entailed in the past and Mum… God, if I mentioned Fred's name to Mum, she'd either lock herself in her room to cry or go on a cleaning frenzy. And George barely exists as it is, and Charlie and Bill are out of the country and…" She broke off again, shaking her head. "I'm sorry. I'm sure you didn't need to have a weepy female unloading all over you today. Thank you for stopping, Neville. Really."

"Please don't do that," Neville chided softly. "You obviously need to talk about this. I'm here. And I'm sure I'm not your first choice, but I'm here and that must count for something, right?"

Ginny looked at him, worrying her lip as she fought with herself. She didn't want to take advantage of his giving nature, but she had been aching for so long to talk about everything that had happened. Remembering that Neville had been there for so much of that year—had lived through the same fear and physical tortures that she had in a way that Harry had not—gave her the courage to open her mouth and begin talking.


~*~


Ginny sat in the flat she and Harry shared, staring out the window as the mid-afternoon gloom cast weak shadows across their furniture. The door opened and closed, signalling Harry's return from wherever he'd been and Ginny drew a deep breath.

"Gin? Where are you?"

Ginny swallowed and smoothed her hands over her thighs before she called out, "In the living room."

Harry's dark head appeared around the doorway then and he smiled tiredly at her before moving into the room to sit next to her on the sofa, pulling her into his arms. She relaxed into his embrace, wondering for the hundredth time if she was wrong. Perhaps they could work on this thing and maybe it would get better and…

"I ran into Neville today," she said softly, resting her cheek on his chest as she watched the first lazy flake of snow drift down outside. His heart beat strong and steady under her ear as his hand smoothed over her hair.

"Oh? How was he?"

"He looked good. Whatever he's doing agrees with him."

"That's good. Oh, look! It's snowing."

Ginny smiled sadly. It always took Harry just a minute longer than her to see things like that. The parallels were heartbreaking. "Harry?"

"Yes?"

"What do you want to do?"

"What, like tonight?"

"No, I mean… what do you want to do with your life? What do you want us to do?"

"I dunno. I quite like how things are now."

And that was the problem. Ginny could barely tolerate things the way they were now. "Do you want to get a job? Try out for a Quidditch team? You wanted to be an Auror once and—"

"Oh, God, no. I don't know what I was thinking. I just…" He laughed bitterly. "No."

"Oh." She tried to let it go then. It was just… easier… to sit here and watch the snow fall and pretend that everything was as perfect as each tiny flake.

"Why?"

"Hmm?"

"Why did you ask? Do you want to do something? I mean, if you want to get a new job or something…"

"Oh, no, I'm happy at the Ministry. The changes there are good, you know? Kingsley is wonderful and I get to see a lot of Dad and Percy and Hermione. I just… I was thinking about Fred today—"

"Ginny—" Harry went stiff under her, and pain sliced through her chest.

"Harry, please. He was my brother. Why won't you let me talk about him?"

"It won't change anything, Gin. Don't you see that? Talking about it all the time, it's just… It's pointless. He's gone. They're all gone and talking about it isn't going to bring them back."

"I know that!" She pushed off Harry's chest, then off the sofa, needing to move. "I know he's dead, Harry. My God, do you think there's any possible way I could have forgotten? But I refuse to act like he never lived just because he's gone! It's not right and it's not fair—"

"Nothing about this is fair, Gin." His voice was hard, then, reminding her how he'd changed since she'd first met him. "Let's just… Come on, let's go order some take away or something."

Ginny closed her eyes. She didn't want to do this, but it was time. It was past time. "I don't think so, Harry."

He sighed and she opened her eyes to see him sinking back onto the sofa, his elbows on his knees as he dropped his head into his hands. Ginny took a shaky breath and walked over to him, slightly hesitant. She raised her hand and lightly carded it through his hair. "What are we doing, Ginny?"

She shook her head, unable to speak around the knot of heartbreak lodged in her throat. He dropped his hands and looked up at her and she saw her own pain reflected in his eyes. "It's time, isn't it, Harry?" A small sob escaped her and she dropped to her knees in front of him. His arms came around her and she felt his nose press against the side of her neck as he held her tightly to him. He was shaking slightly; she ran her hands over his back. "I love you, Harry."

"I love you, too, Gin." His voice was soft as a child's, lost.

She hugged him fiercely and said, "I won't stop. I want you to know that. It's why we lasted this long, you and I."

"I know. I'm sorry, Ginny. I couldn't… I can't…" He expelled a harsh breath and shook his head. "I can't even think about it yet."

She nodded, the pain lessening somewhat. "I know, love. When you can… when you're ready? I'll be here. I can't lose you, you know." She squeezed her eyes tightly closed and whispered, "Mum would kill me if she lost you because of me."

"I don't want to come between you and your family, Gin—"

"Then don't. Promise me you'll be there at Sunday dinner."

"I—okay. It's going to be different now."

"Yes. But not bad, Harry. Not bad, just different."


~*~


Ginny Apparated to the front yard of the Burrow, and a knot of dread churned in her belly as she imagined her mum's reaction to her split with Harry. She sighed, hitched her bag over her shoulder, and started walking up the dirt path when a slamming door drew her attention to the front porch.

For a moment, with the way the setting sun was throwing shadows along the ground, it looked like Charlie, but as she drew closer she could see that it was, instead, George. Ginny swallowed the lump that formed in her throat at the sight of her brother and pushed forward, walking up the steps and making to embrace him. The look on his face stopped her, though. Grief tightened his eyes and drew lines around his mouth that made him look so very different from the carefree boy he'd once been.

"George?"

"I can't…" He shook his head, looking at her but not seeing her. He turned then, staring out toward the horizon and the mass of scars where his ear should have been made her flinch slightly. It wasn't that they were ugly or unpleasant or… It had nothing to do with the physicality of the scars so much as what they represented. "I don't know how to be George."

Ginny's gaze flew to his eyes at that softly whispered statement that was no less heart-rending for its lack of volume. She slid her bag off her shoulder and dropped it to the ground before going and wrapping her brother in her arms. Tears she didn't know she had left in her rose to the surface as she felt him bend stiffly toward her.

"I can't stay here, Gin. I can't. I have to…"

Ginny nodded against his shoulder. She understood. She really did. Pulling back, she opened her mouth to say as much before his words stopped her.

"I don't know how to be one person. I tried. It's been… But I don't know how to be just George."

A small sob shook Ginny's shoulders and she nodded, laying her palm to his cheek before she stretched up on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his chin. "Go, Georgie. Go find your smile. I'll talk to Mum."

He relaxed against her then—just a tiny bit, but enough—and his arms squeezed her tightly before he released her and ran down the steps. She watched him go, greedily absorbing this last sight of him; knowing somehow that it would be a very long time before he returned.

The sun had dipped below the horizon before Ginny turned, picked up her bag, and opened the door. She walked into the Burrow, the scents of home wrapping around her and filling her with a measure of peace. She looked around the living room, sighing softly at the neglected air of the place. It was so clean and yet… just from looking one could tell that the heart had gone out of it and it was mostly sad.

"Mum?" she called.

There was a long pause and then a watery-sounding, "In the kitchen!"

Ginny walked through to the kitchen after depositing her bag at the foot of the stairs—she'd decided to stay at the Burrow until she could find a new flat—and saw her mother sitting at the kitchen table, the flurry of magical activity around her raising delightful smells. Molly Weasley's red-rimmed eyes and splotchy face stopped Ginny in her tracks. She watched as her mum straightened her apron and fussed with her hair, her weary eyes looking behind Ginny.

"Did Harry come with you, dear?"

Ginny shook her head, not ready to have that conversation just now. A part of her had been shying away from mentioning Fred's name around her mum ever since the funeral, but something about the events of the day—and it had been such a long one—made her look at the situation differently.

Molly had always been the rock upon which her family drew their strength. Ginny wasn't certain that she was the right person to be a temporary shelter for her mother, but if nothing else, nineteen years of unconditional love called for her to put aside her own grief and fears long enough to let her mother know that she wasn't alone.

"Mum." She realised then that she had no idea what to say. How did a child comfort a parent? She walked slowly toward her mother, trying to formulate what to say when she realised words weren't necessary. She pulled a chair close to her mum's and leaned forward, wrapping her in a loving hug.

"I miss him, too," she said quietly, and Molly sagged against her. "I'm sorry, Mum. I'm so sorry." The tears that flowed then were cleansing, healing, as they let their grief wash through them.

"He's leaving," Molly said quietly after the initial flood of tears eased. Ginny stiffened but nodded; she wouldn't lie about this, especially after she'd told George she'd talk to their mother. "I failed him, Ginny."

"Oh, Mum, no!" Ginny cried, pulling away to cup her mother's soft, plump cheeks in her hands, forcing Molly to meet her eyes. "No, you didn't."

"He needed me and I wasn't… I couldn't…" Molly shook her head, her face crumpling again. "I didn't even know, Ginny. I didn't know. I should have known, and it's my fault. My fault he's dead because I should have known. I should have been there to stop it, been there to push him out of the way and take his place. I was his mother and he was dead for nearly an hour before I knew! I should have—"

It took Ginny a moment to understand that the conversation had shifted from George to Fred and when she did, when she heard her mother's tortured confession and the depth of the horrible guilt she'd been carrying, Ginny's heart clenched in agony. "You couldn't have! You couldn't have known, Mum. I swear to you, I swear, you couldn't have known."

"I was his mother." That seemed to settle it for Molly.

Ginny shook her head, tears falling rapidly as she said, "That doesn't make you omniscient. George and Percy and Ron were there and they couldn't stop it, either. Do you blame them?"

Molly drew back, startled, and her voice was rough with grief as she said, "Don't be ridiculous; of course I don't blame them."

"Do you blame Grandmother Prewett for Uncle Fabian and—"

"No!"

"Then you have to stop blaming yourself."

Molly made a face at that, but the breath she took, shaky as it was, sounded cleansing. Ginny leaned forward and hugged her mother tight, surreptitiously wiping her eyes as she did so. "You are the best mother a child could ask for, Mumsy." The childhood name slipped from her lips so easily and the sagging of Molly's shoulders told of what it meant. They held each other for a long time before Ginny decided the time was right for a change of subject. She sighed when she realised that she should be straightforward with her mother rather than put off the inevitable.

"This is probably a really horrid time to tell you Harry and I split, isn't it?" she asked quietly, tightening her arms.

Molly drew a startled breath and pulled back to look her full in the face. Ginny winced and smiled at the same time and something about the situation struck her as so ridiculous that she burst into laughter. Her mum smacked her in the arm and said, "I thought you were serious!"

Ginny swallowed down her untimely giggles and shrugged as she said, "I am serious. We realised that we're… not really right for one another. I love him, I always will, and I know he loves me too, but it's not the kind of love that you build a future on."

"Oh, dear. Oh, Ginny, I'm so sorry. Are you all right?" Molly grabbed her into a tight, warm hug, stepping easily back into the role of the comforter. Ginny sighed tiredly and settled into the embrace.

"I'm fine. It hurts—I won't say it doesn't—but it's been coming for a while. And it was time."

"I had no idea."

"Neither of us wanted to acknowledge it, so we just ignored it. It was easier."

Molly sat back with a chiding look on her face and said, "Communication is vital to any relationship, Ginny, surely you know that?"

Ginny shrugged and spread her hands. "He still can't talk about the war, Mum. How can we move on from it if we can't even talk about it? And I want to move on. It's… it's how I know I'm going to be okay, you know?"

"Ginny!" The hollow-sounding shout from the fireplace made them both jump and whirl around to see Hermione's head floating in the flames. "Ginny, Harry just told Ron you'd—oh, hello, Molly. Err, Ginny… ah, we, umm… Harry came by—"

Ginny laughed softly at Hermione's stuttering and said, "Mum knows."

Hermione's sigh sent a puff of ash across the hearth, prompting her to say, "I'm sorry, Molly. I'll come through and clean that—"

"No need, dear; I've got it." Molly pointed her wand toward the corner where a broom and dustpan were leaning lazily and they immediately zoomed into action. When the small mess was cleared, she stood and brightly said, "Well, I've a load of laundry to hang out. You girls have a good talk!"

Ginny watched her mother leave with a small, amused grin. "She's going to feel like an idiot when she sees the snow. Subtlety is not her strong suit."

Hermione cleared her throat, drawing Ginny's attention back to her. "My knees are aching a bit, but I wanted to make sure you're okay. Are you? I could come through. In fact, I should come through—"

"You don't have to, Hermione. Is Harry still there? Is he all right?"

Hermione peered at her for a long moment before she said, "Ron took him to the Three Broomsticks. Harry insisted he was fine, but you know Ron. Any excuse will do."

Ginny laughed. "Still infatuated with Madam Rosmerta, eh?"

"Her breasts, more like," Hermione said sourly before she brightened. "Oh! If you're really all right, I'll get us a table at the Leaky. I'll call Luna and we'll have a proper Girl's Night, shall I?"

Ginny hesitated. "We don't really need to—"

"Nonsense. Be ready at seven."

Ginny groaned. "Not tonight, Hermione, please. It's been a long day and I think I'd end up falling asleep after one drink."

"Tomorrow then," Hermione allowed, her expression softening. "Are you sure you're all right, Gin?"

A solid feeling of peace filled her and Ginny nodded. "I really am, Hermione. Or, at least, I will be."

"All right. I'll see you tomorrow. I plan to come and drag you along in whatever you're wearing, so you may as well give in and be ready."

Ginny sighed and nodded. "I'll be ready."

On to Part II